At an age when most actresses are playing character parts rather than ro­mantic leads, Hepburn’s longevity was an anomaly. Hollywood then as now was a town that equates female power with youth and beauty. But she had staked her career on intelligence and determi­nation, not the glamor and beauty of a prima donna, and she won by outliving them all. (She wasn’t entirely alone: Hol­lywood in the 1950 was more receptive to aging stars. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford also had late-life romances in films such as Now Voyager and Sudden Fear.)

Like so many of her parts, this one originated in a play (Arthur Laurents) and went through various possible ac­tresses before she won it and made it her own. Here she’s shorn not just of youth and glamor but of her brash confidence and imperious manners. She’s an Ugly American of all things, a spinster from Akron, Ohio, but she’s in Venice! And never has it looked more beautiful on the screen than in this film directed by Da­vid Lean and shot on location.

In a way Hepburn turns age into an asset; she can make fun of herself, can be irritating and likable at the same time. She can even fall into the canal without completely smashing her amour-propre. Or her romantic prospects, which reside in the heart-stoppingly gorgeous Rossano Brazzi as an antiques dealer she sees first (where else?) on the piazza San Marco.

She was a risk-taker, on screen and off, and in this case her recklessness got her into trouble: she insisted on doing the canal scene herself rather than turn­ing it over to a stuntwoman. As a con­sequence, she developed an eye infection that lasted for the rest of her life.

Yet she recalled working with Lean as one of the most challenging experiences of her career, as he pushed and goaded her into places she hadn’t chosen. Emo­tionally, too, she allowed herself to be fearlessly exposed in all her loneliness and insecurity, this may be one of her bravest and most moving performances.

Molly Haskell